


Appearances

by Philosophizes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Terrorists, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/pseuds/Philosophizes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some very stupid terrorists decide that the thing to do, once they've breached United Nations security, is to take some Nations hostage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearances

Maybe it was childish, maybe it is a little immature, maybe there were better uses of his time- but the portion of UN meetings where the Nations had to be present with their representatives in the main meeting hall, instead of in their own room next door, was a terrible waste of time and it bored England half to death.

So he passed magical notes.

It was simple, really- he took any piece of paper with a letterhead printed on the top and charmed it to go to whomever the writer thought of when you tapped the letterhead. It didn’t require maintenance, the charm didn’t take any more power than it could gather than from just laying around, and it kept everyone occupied.

His favorite times were when they had long stretches of sitting around like this- he’d pass out a sheaf of charmed paper beforehand, each charm just ever so slightly different in the way it felt to his sense of magic; and then once the meeting started up, all he had to do was sit quietly and pretend to be paying attention while the music of finely-crafted magic blinked in and out of his senses all around him. It was soothing, and kept him from falling asleep completely.

 Plus if he concentrated he knew what everyone was writing to each other.

He was drowsing when the main doors opened suddenly.

But it was the gunfire that woke him.

He would have jumped from his seat- wartime instincts never really went away after you’d fought so many for so long- but his representative grabbed him instead, staring wide-eyed at the terrorists who had somehow managed to get enough resources to break into the building and pose a serious threat to international security.

A quick glance around told him that most of the other Nations had acted on the same instincts- hands creeping towards the concealed weapons that no one had managed to specifically forbid yet because they didn’t know their Nations carried them, half-risen in an attempt to stand, grab their representatives, and bend time and space with a step so they could _get the fuck out of there-_

But typical human fear and typical human ignorance had prevented either thing from happening; so now the terrorists had the upper hand and the Nations had to figure out how the _hell_ they were going to protect as many humans as possible while getting rid of the terrorists, all without a plan.

England eyed the terrorists, waiting for an indication of where they from and who they-

“Any of you move and we’ll start shooting again!”

Bugger it all. _Americans._

Alfred was getting some _very_ nasty looks. The political clean-up from this was going to be _hell._

* * *

Veneziano had a default mode for situations where he was outgunned.  

It went something like this:

  1. Cry pathetically
  2. Be even more pathetic when people started getting rough and/or angry
  3. Evaluate situation



There were a few options here:

  1. If situation is still outrageously dangerous, continue being pathetic
  2. If situation has stabilized, ease up on the pathetic in preparation for escape
  3. If situation presents an opportunity to escape, _ESCAPE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD **ESCAPE**_
  4. If situation presents an opportunity for a counterattack, **_EXPLOIT THEIR WEAKNESSES RUTHLESSLY_**



He was clearly outgunned and couldn’t do anything heroic without endangering his representatives and all the other humans in the room.

Turn on the waterworks.

Romano just looked at him in mild disgust and hissed that he’d _better remember_ the kicking ass and taking names part.

So really, it was no surprise that when the terrorists looked around, decided that they couldn’t hold the whole room without eventually getting mobbed by a SWAT team or the UN Peacekeepers and that their position was better kept outside, in the hallway, with hostages, that they dragged Veneziano out of his seat.

* * *

Ukraine was 99% certain that she’d been chosen as part of the hostage pool because the terrorists looked around, saw a very feminine woman, and a little something in their brains that said “feminine=weak” clicked into place.

She figured she should be upset about that, and she was a little, but now she out in the hallway with Veneziano, who was doing his _‘I-am-worthless-and-pathetic-it’s-not-worth-the-effort-to-hurt-me’_ routine that no Nation would ever, _ever_ fall for again; and Poland, who was ramping up the camp and the nonchalance in efforts to get a stupidly emotion-fuelled move out of the terrorists he could exploit; and Liechtenstein, who was being worrisomely quiet and cooperative.

Four Nations and a big group of terrorists with guns and combat knives, who were already jumpy from the security forces that would be arriving from both ends of the hallway very, very soon-

Yes, they could do this.

The terrorist sentries posted at either end of the hallway, were the corners turned, motioned that the countering forces had arrived and that they should move up to secure the entire area.

Ukraine found herself being shoved forwards next to Poland.

“There is _so_ totally like, _no_ call for this? For _serious,_ you _guys._ Y’all are _way_ uncool,” he complained.

Ukraine had to stop herself from smiling a little.

“ _Hey_ hun, how ya doin’?” Poland drawled at her as the rescue team edged up the hallway towards them and the terrorists. “Ready to blow this joint? That meeting was a _total_ bore. I know a place that is like, _super rad_ for coffee?”

* * *

Liechtenstein kept half an eye on the UN Peacekeeper force that was wavering at the sight of the Nation hostages. The terrorists were shouting something about ultimatums and killing sprees and who-knew-what-else; she wasn’t really paying attention.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked Veneziano politely.

He sniffed pathetically.

_“_ Yeah _justgivemeaminute.”_

Liechtenstein started counting the seconds in her head.

“-these very important-”

The terrorist who was speaking paused a moment.

_“Just who did we kidnap?”_ he hissed to the man next to him.

“I’m the Principality of Liechtenstein,” Liechtenstein said helpfully.

“I’m the northern half of the Italian Republic,” Veneziano told them. “And you’re all _terrible horrible people._ ”

He smashed his heel down on the foot of the man who was holding the back of his coat and used the moment of pain when the man wasn’t thinking about anything else besides the fact that his foot was suddenly _very_ broken to steal his combat knife and stab it hilt-deep into his armpit.

Liechtenstein threw the terrorist behind her off-balance and whipped the handgun she always had out of her pocket, shooting four before they began to retreat hastily and she ran out of bullets.

Three of nine, down.

* * *

Poland hadn’t really been expecting Veneziano and Liechtenstein to make the first move, but what the heck.

He spun around and broke the closest terrorist’s jaw and Ukraine flipped the one that was trying to restrain her. The next one was shoved head-first into the wall; and then she went to back up Poland in the piledrive he’d attempted with the pistol she’d liberated.

A kick to the knee there, a shoulder in the gut here-

Ukraine was used to aiming for the center of mass; which really wasn’t a viable choice with the Kevlar the terrorists were wearing.

So she punched the next person who tried to attack her in the face instead.

There was shriek of excruciating pain, and one of the few terrorists left went down with a knife in the upper thigh region, courtesy of Poland.

The others, not wanting a share of the trauma, started surrendering.

* * *

Veneziano got one final, well-aimed stab in and let the Peacekeepers handle the rest. He checked in with Liechtenstein just in time to see her club the last terrorist who’d tried to grab her with the butt of her handgun.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She smiled at him.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“You think we can like, get the rest of the day off for this?” Poland wanted to know.

“Probably not,” Veneziano pouted.

“I think there are still a couple terrorists in the meeting hall,” Liechtenstein said. “If we’re going to deal with them, I want to acquire a large, impressive firearm beforehand.”

Ukraine hefted the pistol she’d taken.

“Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

England had been mentally cataloguing the sounds of fighting from beyond the doors since they’d started.

He was _fairly_ certain they were the sounds of Nations fighting humans, and not humans fighting humans- especially when they stopped so suddenly, but he couldn’t be _sure-_

The doors swung open and Ukraine stepped through quickly, pressing the barrel of a pistol to the head of the terrorist closest to them. Liechtenstein covered her with a machine gun as Veneziano appeared suddenly next to another and caught him with an arm around the neck before he could react, pressing the knife he still held into the side of his waist, clearly threatening the fact that any sudden movements had a high probability of being met with spilled intestines.

Poland stared down at the last terrorist, arms crossed.

“ _Totally_ not worth it,” he said, eyeing the man’s half-raised gun.

Absolute surrender. 


End file.
